Oh dear, I'm so mad at myself today. Yesterday I was in a pissy mood, and I went to catch up on my favorite blog...www.gledwood4.blogspot.com . I ended up getting angry with him or rather angry with something he wrote. I'm not exactly sure what it is I got so mad at; I do believe it was that he complained about having a mental illness tattooed on his forehead. I said something to the tune of, "try having a personality disorder tattooed on your forehead, as well as a mental illness, and to top it off an opiate addiction."
When I went on to read his most recent post I pretty much told him I had thought he was gay. I only once suspected he was gay, when he spoke of having a "partner" in one of his posts or comments. I thought maybe that was his way of coming out. Turns out I was dead wrong. My dearest Gledwood is heterosexual. That's not to say if he was homosexual I would like him less, or treat him any different. He would still be my cyber husband.
Perhaps the reason I got so pissy is because I read that he was attracted to a real women. I know that sounds down right crazy. Me jealous of women he knows in the real world. He's allowed to be attracted, or in love with anyone he pleases. Here in cyberspace our relationship is that of mere friends. We do not know each other personally. I only know him as a neurotic blogger with an addiction and a mental illness. I hope Gleds doesn't take offence to me calling him neurotic. I'd rather be neurotic than narcissistic or having a borderline personality DISORDER. Neurotic is cute and enduring. The other two are annoying and off putting.
I just want to make it clear that I admire Gledwood love, and I need to understand that his blog and his life are his to live and write about, and for me read and maybe leave a comment with a suggestion, not instructions. I cannot tell him how to live his life and what to change about either himself or his blog. I'm sorry Gledwood, for telling you the way you take your medication is wrong, and the way you interact with doctors is wrong. You have your reasons for doing what you do, and how you do it. I may not agree, but it's not my place to tell you to do it differently.
Now moving on. My pissy moods yesterday made me decide I have to write about my personality disorder more. Not every day, and definitely not to self-analyze myself to the point of being a neurotic, narcissistic butt head. If it was only being neurotic it'd be cute, but I'm incapable of being neurotic without the narcissism.
In my opinion, not my doctors opinion, as I have asked my doctor this question, "Do you think I'm more borderline than bi polar?" He said, "No, because we've been able to get you out of a manic state with medication, and because you have delusions when you're manic." This is not my opinion as I stated above. It feels to me that I am super impulsive, and almost always in a major depression. (Until now)
Not at the moment though, at the moment I'm content. I dare to say I'm almost happy. The sickening thing is I want to be sad and depressed or crazy manic. It seems the increase in my dose of my two anti-depressants has curbed my mood swings and brought me out of my normal state of severe depression and into what I believe people without any mental illness feel like.
All these medication do have their drawback of course. As I've mentioned before (many times) I'm working on a novel. When I write I have to visualize the story and what I'm writing about. Without the medication I am able to day dream, and go to la la land where I can visualize a story in my head easy peasy. Then I speak it out and work it out so I can put it into words on paper that make what I see visible to the reader through my words. Now that I'm "normal" I have no imagination. I've lost the ability to day dream and visualize.
In writing my first book, a memoir; it was easy for me to visualize because I lived it. I just had to go back and retrieve a memory and write it out. In my first book I believe I didn't do a good enough job at telling my story. I was inexperienced at writing. I was more used to telling a story verbally. Giving the story a climax and a decline to the finish the story was easy verbally, which is why I now speak what I'm seeing in my minds eye before I write it down. Before my first book I had written a lot of short stories and essays. When I go back and look at them now I find I would either write too much detail about what I was seeing in my head, or not enough detail about what I visualized, and then glossing over details and just writing the facts. Even in my journal entries I see my progress in how I write about a remembered event in words.
What I'm getting at, is I think I need to stop taking my medications until I've at least finished the first draft of the novel. If my councilor at the methadone clinic found out that I was planning on going off my medications so I could get my creativity back I'd be thrown out on my butt. If I were to tell my doctor he would cease to treat me, as it would be pointless because I'm not taking the medications he's prescribing me to keep me stable.
Really it's a catch 22, if I stay on my medications which are working just as any doctor could hope for one a patient who has never been stable emotionally and now is, but with this new found stability I've lost my creativity. I know what will happen if I go off my medications, I'll have violent mood swings from one extreme to the other. I'd either go manic and have delusions which will end me up in the nuthouse, or I'll become severely depressed, and attempt or succeed at killing myself. If I don't succeed I will end up in the nuthouse. So it’s a choice of no creativity, or creativity with a side of crazy and a ticket to the nuthouse. I WANT THE CREATIVITY AND I MISS BEING SAD. What is wrong with me, why do I want to be comfortably sad? What I think is wrong is my personality is a depressed personality, therein lies my personality disorder.
There is no cure for a personality disorder, so for the rest of my life I'll be going on and off my medications. I'll will take my meds until they are working really good, and then I'll miss being myself and will stop taking my meds. Right now I feel like I'm having an identity crisis. I'm not who I want to be, who I'm comfortable being. I used to be Anna, a pathetic loser who wants to be the next great American writer, but doesn't have the raw talent one needs to write a great book. I'm a liar and thief. Right now I'm not that Anna. I'm some strange person living in Anna's fat ugly body.
Also, since I bleached and cut my hair I've changed. I'm no longer embarrassed to be fat and ugly. I don't feel gross for not brushing my hair for three days. I wear dresses that people think are Halloween costumes and I feel comfortable. I don't care what they think. I feel original, but the truth is I'm very unoriginal. I copied Courtney Love's looks from the 1990's. I make my own tee-shirts with markers. One says STD free since 2003 like Kurt Cobain used to do. I'm truly unoriginal and it makes me very sad.
I once had the "clap". When Pete and I first started going out and having sex I went in to get on birth control. I had had a pap smear done just six months before and I only slept with one person since then...Pete. I had to get another pap smear before I could get birth control. This was before I had health insurance and I had to go to Planned Parenthood for birth control. Anyway, a few days after my pap smear I got called back and told to come in a.s.a.p. I was worried because I also got a HIV test at the same time. So when the nurse told me it was just the "clap" I was relieved. I wouldn't care if I was HIV positive, but I didn't want to have infected my new boyfriend. Pete was waiting in the car for me, and I had to go out there and tell him I had an STD, and he needed to come inside and get a dose of antibiotics. It was embarrassing and funny for both of us. At first we were both uncomfortable, and then I made some joke about it and from then on we always laughed about it. I knew he gave it to me, but I said I didn't know who gave it to whom.
As far as my opiate addiction, I'm doing really well. Haven't used in quite some time, and have no plans on using anytime in the near or distant future. I'm more focused on re decorating my bedroom, and working on my novel. As well as working my way through the 100 books everyone should read list. My parents are letting me off the hook for rent until January. I should have my room done by November, but I want extra money to buy my mom an awesome birthday gift on November 19th, and get both my parents kick ass Xmas gifts.
Well, I've spent an hour writing this post, and I'm in dire need of a cigarette. So I am going to sign off for now. Don't worry I'll be back, I always come back.
Live long and prosper